


Set Himring Ringing

by amyfortuna



Series: The Union Of Fingon & Maedhros [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dancing, Fluff and Smut, M/M, POV First Person, Present Tense, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:19:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3611511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fingon and Maedhros, married now for 115 years, have been apart for five years and now it's time for a joyful reunion at Himring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Set Himring Ringing

**Author's Note:**

> **B2MeM Challenge:** [Noldorin Areas of Beleriand](http://b2mem.livejournal.com/279880.html?thread=4254280#t4254280): a quiet moment for Fingon & Maedhros during the Siege of Angband. (They do get their quiet moment, but it's preceded by quite a lot of noisy ones first! However the quiet moment is _really really_ important.)

I'm standing on the walls of Himring, facing west, waiting. I can feel Findekano approaching - his presence in my mind getting stronger by the moment. We are in contact daily by means of mindtouch, less frequently by means of letters, and far less frequently than either of us would like in visits to each other, but our hearts are ever as one, and our thoughts sing together already, even though we have not touched in - 

"Five years, Maitimo!" his voice rings inside my mind. He must be so close now; we can usually communicate so clearly only when we are very near each other. "Five years without you, I do not know how we have borne it!" 

I lean forward with anticipation, shading my eyes from the afternoon sun, and there he sweeps around the nearest hill, at the head of his guard. As he sees me he stands up in the saddle, raises both hands and gives a shout of joy. 

Tumultuous joy overwhelms us both for a moment, I wish that I was a bird, and could fly down to him. I settle for a shout of my own, and for rushing down to the gates as fast as possible. 

I'm there when he rides in, and he's barely stopped the horse before he's in my arms. 

"Findekano!" I have time to gasp in relief, before he drags me down for a kiss, open-mouthed and breathless. Our arms are around each other so hard it's like we are one being, our hair mingling in the breeze. 

I want nothing more than to drag him back to my bed immediately, but that would seriously disrupt the plans I've made for tonight. He has come to stay the whole winter, after all. There will be plenty of time to make up for five years apart, plenty of cold days and nights spent warming each other up. There's little to do in Himring over the winter; for this one at least we'll have each other. 

I reluctantly release his lips, and we look around at our people, most of whom are going about their work as usual, but a few are staring. It's true enough that we have just been more demonstrative than spouses usually are, but we've been apart for five years, and we're hardly done demonstrating. They will just have to become used to it. 

"You have plans for tonight, then?" he says, still with one arm around me, eyes dancing. 

"I have so many plans for tonight, and tomorrow and all the rest of your nights here," I say, "but yes, I have organised a feast. Makalaure is also here for a visit and he's brought his Sindarin friend, Daeron, along with him. They have agreed to play for us tonight, so we are in for a rare treat." 

He smile. "Is that Daeron of Doriath, from the Feast of Reuniting? Makalaure really seemed to take to him, from what I could see."

I grin. "I don't feel I can comment adequately on that, I'll let Makalaure speak for himself, but I can assure you, they do make sweet music together!" 

Findekano's laughter rings out as we walk together into the fortress. I send him off to my rooms - our rooms, for the winter - to take a bath and change his clothing. I wistfully look after him as he goes, wanting to follow, to ravish him deliciously after his bath, but there are tasks I need to see to, before tonight. 

\-----

By the time I get back to my rooms to get changed myself, Findekano is clean and clothed, lying back on a couch in the afternoon sun, dozing in the warmth. He looks so lovely that I go to my knees on the floor beside him and kiss him awake, very gently. He sighs and stirs, arms going around my neck, and we share another kiss, lips and tongues moving softly together, warm and mingling. 

We don't have much time. Findekano helps to undress me, and then to dress me again, looking at me with admiring eyes all the while. We have seen each other naked a thousand times of course in the one hundred fifteen years we have been wed, but every time we meet again, his eyes always behold me as they did so very long ago, when we were youths, meeting each other for the first time, our eyes connecting, holding, glancing away, then coming back together with a sweet sharp look. His eyes knew me even then as they always have. 

At last I am dressed, and we sweep out together, holding hands, making our way to the main hall of Himring. We can hear lively music being played - not my brother and Daeron, that's for later - and delicious scents waft from the kitchens. 

The meal passes in a blur. The food is excellent of course, but I am drinking in the heady wine of Findekano's presence, devouring his face and body with my eyes the whole while, and there is little to compare with that. 

After dinner Makalaure and Daeron take their places at the front of the room, Makalaure on the harp, Daeron playing the flute. They start with a sweet lilting song that reminds me of nothing so much as the songs of birds in the trees in spring, and the wind shaking the boughs, dancing lightly over leaves. 

Their next song is far more lively and they are only a few measures into it before everyone's toes are tapping. Findekano takes my hand under the table. "Dance with me," he says. 

It is not something we have ever done in public together, but what better time and place than here and now? I rise with Findekano, and we make our way to the open space in front of the musicians. 

Findekano sweeps me a courtly bow that could have come straight from the palace of Tirion itself. I return the bow, and we raise our left hands, placing our palms together, and slowly circle around each other, eyes locked together. We are barely touching and the dance seems so heated I can hardly bear it. Other couples are coming up to join us, whether espoused couples, pairs of friends, or lovers. One group of three makes its way to the floor, and I share an amused glance with Findekano, well knowing the tale that lies behind that particular relationship. 

The music plays on, wild and sweet, carrying us in its wake. We are in a war-torn fortress in Beleriand, not fair Tirion's palace, so it isn't long before we are dancing in each other's arms, his lithe body pressed against mine, hair flying and eyes sparkling. 

Around us everyone else is doing much the same - even Makalaure and Daeron are playing with their eyes locked together, in that particular sort of perfect harmony that can only come with mindtouch. Apart, they are the greatest musicians I have ever heard. Together, they are incandescent, power and beauty spilling from their instruments and voices. I almost wonder if they could sing down the walls of Thangorodrim itself, between them.

The music changes again after several more songs; Daeron has traded his flute in for a violin, and what comes forth from their instruments now is something I have never heard before. It is a slow and graceful tune, with somewhat of sadness in it, but it speaks not only of parting and sorrow, but of reunion and joy, so sweet it brings tears to the eyes. It is a tune for dancing together to, moving slow and careful across the floor, staring in each other's eyes. Findekano twines his arms around my neck, and I place mine around his waist, and we just drift together on the sea of sound. I wonder at times if we are not indeed floating above the surface of the floor, lost in each other. 

Every time we reunite after a while apart, I recall vividly the first time we came back together, on our journey into Dor-lomin, when our marriage began. And so it is now - I think of the look in Findekano's eyes when he told me that we needed no vows, only the exchange of our hearts, and of the way I utterly surrendered myself to him then, heart and body entirely his. 

I anticipate greatly doing so again, later tonight, and many times in the coming days. Findekano smiles at me, seeing my thoughts easily and naturally. Barriers cannot help but fall when he looks into my eyes. 

The music changes once more, into a lively tune. I think it must be half of war, and half of love, all mixed and mingled, entangled, the passionate fire of both. Suddenly I can resist Findekano's lips no longer, I lean down and kiss him, bending him somewhat backwards over the floor. His eyes laugh as our mouths meet, and he goes boneless in my arms for a second, trusting the support of his entire body to me. 

I do not let him fall; I will never let him fall if I can help it. We kiss passionately, the way we did after the Glorious Battle, there on the victorious field. This dance floor too is a field of victory for me; the very fact that Himring exists at all is a triumph. Findekano tastes of sweet wine and windswept hills, echoing voices crying out with desire. 

I want to make him cry out again. If I could have my way I would set Himring ringing with the sounds of his voice lost to bliss. 

The music becomes ever more passionate, swirling clouds of desire around us both. I raise him to his feet and he slides his hands down my body to my hips and I am almost undone. We share a heated glance and I know that we must make it to bed soon or we shall not at all. 

I pull him with me as I make my way over to the musicians. 

"End it here, Makalaure, or this dance will become an orgy," I say to him, quietly, under cover of the music. He doesn't miss a beat, on his instrument or in his reply. 

"I see no problem with that," he says with a grin, casting a seductive glance over at Daeron, who raises an eyebrow and carries on playing his violin.

"You'd be left playing instruments of metal and wood, rather than far more pleasant instruments," Findekano warns Makalaure, his hands around my waist. 

"Also, little brother, I do have a reputation to try to maintain," I say. 

Makalaure laughs at the notion of my reputation, but turns back to Daeron. Their eyes meet again, and they bring the music to a resounding, glorious crescendo. I cling to Findekano as we are swept away by the feel of it, orgasmic and overwhelming. 

Then all sound ceases, and for a moment only breathing can be heard, everyone's breath coming fast from exertion and excitement. Makalaure stands up. 

"Well, it looks like the fun's over for tonight, or if you're lucky, perhaps it's just beginning!" he says, reaching out for Daeron's hand. They bow together. 

I laugh and move forward, projecting my voice. "Seek your beds if you wish, fair people of mine. I know I will be, and I'm taking this one along with me!" I pull Findekano against me, and he grins gleefully up at me as applause and cheers break out, along with appreciative whistles and a fair number of good-naturedly lewd comments. 

The crowd of people dissolves fairly rapidly. Out of the corner of my eye I see Makalaure reach out for Daeron and pull him into a kiss. They stumble away together, arms around each other. 

\----

The door barely closes behind us, after several minutes of rushing through dark halls punctuated by brief pauses for fevered kissing and groping, before we are ripping each other's clothes off. Some of it is literal ripping; I'm sure that Findekano's leggings are a casualty of our favourite kind of war, but I can't be bothered checking or even caring. 

We stumble to the bed. He pushes me down on my back and climbs on top of me, eyes wild with desire, one of his braids beginning to come undone. I reach up and loosen it, then the others, tugging my fingers through his hair. He groans softly at the feel of my hands in his hair, and leans down, kissing me hard. I can feel him against me, and I want to be inside him more than I want my next breath. I slide my hand down, press gently against his hole, slip the very end of my finger inside easily. 

"You prepared yourself for me," I breathe. I wish almost that I had come in on that scene earlier, Findekano sliding a hand slick with oil between his own legs, a look of concentration on his face. 

"I didn't want to waste a moment," he says softly, and slides down onto me, taking me straight to the hilt. 

Our minds have been touching all along, but now with our joining our connection explodes into life, as overwhelming as ever it was. Findekano moves against me, and we fall into rhythm easily, his head thrown back, eyes closed. He glows with so much passion and energy that I can barely look at him. The heat of him surrounds me. I may be inside him, but he is utterly in control, setting our pace, moving as he pleases. 

"Little love," I breathe, knowing how much he loves to be called that, and his hips stutter. He leans down and takes my mouth, his tongue dancing with mine. My arms go around him, and we rock together slowly, still kissing, our bodies in complete contact with each other for the first time in far too long. 

It's too perfect to last. It feels like we've been making love for hours today, since we first saw each other. Findekano moans breathlessly into my mouth, arching against me, his cock rubbing between our bodies as I pound into him. 

Findekano tears his mouth away from mine and sits back up again, riding me, his hand going to his cock. "Maitimo, ah, Maitimo," he chants, our eyes meeting, holding each other. 

His eyes slide shut as he begins to come, letting out one last inarticulate cry, and that finishes me, I reach up, grabbing at his hip, and come undone, my mind going white with overwhelming bliss. 

\-----

We are lying curled up around each other, warm and contented, our breath coming back to us, heartbeats calming. Findekano's hands, shaking a little, are in my hair, holding my head. My mouth is pressed just at the spot below his ear that he finds so very invigorating, and I lick gently there, just to hear a gasp from him. 

"How did I manage for five years without you?" he says softly, lips against my forehead. 

"About as well as I managed without you," I answer. "We survived. We always do."

"We do," he says, voice soft and almost sad. I can hear the unarticulated wish drifting through his mind and it's the same one that drifts through mine. When we have triumphed, when Morgoth is no more, then nothing and no one shall ever part us. 

Fingon sighs softly, turning his face upward to look out of the window over my head. It faces North, and I can picture what he is seeing as clearly as if I were seeing it myself; a field of countless stars and beneath it a wide plain. Far in the distance, invisible now in the darkness, the mountains of the North rise, Thangorodrim's walls, where once I cried out in the mists and fumes for only death, where once Findekano made a helpless plea for some small measure of mercy from Manwe, and was granted more than that. 

I breathe my thoughts to him, almost unable to form the words, the newness of a realisation spilling over my mind. "The Valar said they would harden their hearts against us, would stop their ears to our cries, would not hear our pleas." Findekano looks back down at me, puzzled, but letting me follow my thoughts as I speak them. "And yet, when you asked only for a small mercy that my death should be swift, you were granted a much greater one by Manwe's hand." 

Findekano's eyes lock onto mine, and suddenly we are thinking in tandem, too fast for words, concepts and ideas flowing between us. Our heads are spinning before long, dizzy with grasping after hope. I am amazed that it took so long to realise that we are not abandoned and never were, that the words of Doom that were spoken have been proven false so easily, and so long ago. _Recall some pity for the Noldor in their need!_ Pity we were granted then, and pity we may be granted in the future. 

Perhaps we did not see it before, but now, ah, now there is something we can hold on to.

"There must be a way to return, to beg their help, to ask for mercy once more," Findekano says. 

"But how?" I ask, trying to be practical. "What do we need to do?" 

Findekano shakes his head. "I do not know." He goes silent, clinging to me. 

We hold each other for some moments, not saying a word or sharing thoughts. He strokes me softly, hand sliding smoothly over my back, almost like he is petting me. I enjoy it shamelessly, curling up close and sighing breathlessly against him. 

At last he speaks once more. "I think, whatever it may be, the key is to be found in our hearts. Our strength of body and force of arms cannot prevail in this war. It is by love that the walls of Thangorodrim gave up their captive once, and it will be so again." He is musing thoughtfully, and yet it feels to me that there is a touch of something more within the words he speaks. They ring of truth, of power, and only time will tell what fruit they will bear.


End file.
